


5. the kale incident

by winterfire22



Series: the losers kill It at age 13 and they all go to college together and everything is better [6]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: College AU, Gen, M/M, also i swear this isnt billphobic, and everything is better, but go off!, except bill is not acting like himself but we'll get to that, from that one movie, inspired by that one gifset of bill hader hitting james mac with kale, read the next two fics for the whole story!!!!!, reddie college au, the losers killed it for good at age 13 and went to college together, this only really makes sense in context with the fics before and after it in this series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-16 12:54:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21508270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterfire22/pseuds/winterfire22
Summary: eddie was only gone for a few days, but somehow, his entire friend group has erupted into chaos. and it all started with richie hitting bill with kale leaves on one fateful evening.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: the losers kill It at age 13 and they all go to college together and everything is better [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1490324
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70





	5. the kale incident

Eddie Kaspbrak had had a long week. First, he’d had to sit through a nasty biology test that he hadn’t studied nearly enough for. Second, the heating went out in his sketchy studio apartment in the middle of the night, leaving him shivering under two sweatshirts since it was too late to drive to Richie’s to spend the night there. Third, his mother had called him, sniffling, crying, begging him to come to Derry so he could drive her to and from the hospital for some emergency medical treatment she’d just found out she needed. He’d skipped class for it, nearly been hit with a semi halfway between Orono and Derry, and then spent an excruciating three full days taking care of his mother. So when he finally made it back home, he’d gone straight to Bangor to see if he could stay with Richie for a nice movie night, working heating, and some Goddamn peace and quiet.

If only.

It all started when Eddie went to the fridge for the Brita pitcher, only to find the vegetable crisper duct taped shut. A plastic bag of some type of greens sat within. Nothing else.

(don’t ask, his subconscious suggests; just don’t ask, you don’t wanna know, it’s going to be something stupid, whatever the explanation is it's gonna be so damn stupid)

“Richie, what the fuck’s going on with your fridge, why is there duct tape holding the drawer closed, the veggies are gonna wilt if you seal them away and don’t use them,” he asks anyway, frowning, as he pours a glass of water.

“Oh,” Richie says from the couch, the tone of his voice maybe a dash uncomfortable-- “it’s just-- this kale situation. Don’t worry about it, babe.”

Eddie blinks. Turns around. Ducks his head out of the kitchen to look at his boyfriend. “This kale situation? What kind of fucking lunatic gets himself into a kale situation? What even is a kale situation? Did the kale give you food poisoning or bite you or something? Did it insult Beverly?”

Richie squirms a little on the couch. He adjusts his glasses. “It’s just a dumb thing from when you were gone. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, come on, you can’t just throw around words like ‘kale situation’ and have a taped shut vegetable drawer and not explain what’s going on,” Eddie whines.

“Oh, you’re telling Eddie about kale watch?” Beverly asks boredly as she wanders out of her room.

“He won’t tell me,” Eddie complains. “What the fuck is kale watch?”

“Don’t tell him,” Richie insists, standing up off the couch. He puts himself between Beverly and Eddie. “He doesn’t need to know. It’s fine.”

“Richie’s on kale watch,” Bev says.

“Yeah smartass I fucking gathered that much,” Eddie huffs, a headache threatening behind his eyes. “What the fuck is kale watch, though? Is anybody going to tell me? Nobody ever wants to tell me anything, dammit!”

“It’s really not a big deal,” Richie says sheepishly.

“It kind of is,” Beverly suggests.

Four neat raps on the door. Richie all but runs to open it-- no doubt, he’s trying to get out of this conversation.

(why the fuck is he being so weird, WHAT is kale watch)

“Hey-a, Stan-o.”

Eddie glances to the door. Watches Stan come into the apartment. Richie shuts the door behind him.

“I think I left my reading glasses here the other day,” Stan says, already glancing around Richie and Bev’s apartment.

“Do you know about kale watch?” Eddie demands. 

Stan rolls his eyes. “Ugh. Not this again. I’m so sick of talking about kale. I thought the whole thing was taken care of.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie huffs. “I leave for three days and you guys have a vegetable crisis without me? What the fuck is kale watch?”

“It’s exactly what it sounds like,” Stanley says.

“It doesn’t _sound_ like anything!”

“Hey, c’mon, Eds, don’t worry about it,” Richie coaxes. “Let’s just drop it. It’s just a dumb thing. Don’t worry about it. It’s not even a big deal.”

“It kind of is, though,” Beverly remarks again, leaning against the kitchen doorway. “I think we should tell him, Richie.”

“Yeah, stop telling me not to worry about it,” Eddie says.

“I’m not gonna tell him! It’s not a big deal,” Richie insists. “Can we please just forget about it?”

“I want to know what the fuck kale watch means,” Eddie says. “Is someone going to tell me or not?”

Stan and Bev exchange a glance. Bev shrugs. Stan nods once.

“Sit down, Eddie,” Stan says. “This might take a minute to explain.”

+

“Okay, in order to do this the right way, I think we need to lay down some ground rules,” Stan says evenly once everyone is settled. He folds his reading glasses (which he’d quickly found under the couch) and puts them in his shirt pocket. “To that end-- I think it’s best if Bev and I tell the story and Richie keeps his mouth shut.”

“What! Why?” Richie asks. He crosses his arms, exhaling haughtily. “I did nothing wrong. If Eddie’s gonna hear this story, I want him to hear my side of it.”

“You can have a chance to defend yourself once we’re done explaining things,” Beverly suggests. “How’s that, Stan?”

“I can live with that,” Stan agrees, nodding. 

“Fine,” Richie grumbles.

“Can someone please just start talking?” Eddie looks from Richie, to Bev, to Stan, then to Richie and Beverly’s adopted stray cat, who’s taking a nap on the living room floor. “I’m so lost here. I hate being out of the loop. I'm never leaving ever again."

“Alright, alright,” Stan says. “I’ll tell you what happened, Eddie. It was the night you left. My landlord had some maintenance people fixing some things around my house, so Patty, Andy, and I were over here to keep out of their way. We were having a perfectly lovely evening with Mike, Ben, and Beverly-- Richie and Bill had gone to the store to get some food.”

“So the second I went to Derry, you guys all hung out without me?” Eddie demands, feeling his eyes widen in betrayal. “Seriously? The seven of us haven’t all hung out in like weeks and the second I’m out of town it’s like time to have a party at Richie and Bev’s? Like oh thank god Eddie’s out of our hair, now we can finally relax and have fun without him being in the way?”

“Simmer down,” Stan says.

“It was just because Stan and Patty had to come over,” Bev explains. “And Ben was already here. So we figured we would invite Mike and Bill and make it a party.”

“I told you guys not to have any fun without me,” Eddie whines. He shoots a glare at Richie, who shrugs, his face suggesting he’s given up on the whole situation.

“Right, just because you’re gone for a few days, we’re all going to avoid each other,” Stan says. “Anyway. So we were all having a perfectly good time. And then Richie and Bill showed up.”

“Richie seemed pissed before they even came inside the door,” Beverly adds, shaking her head. “Ben tried to break up the fight, but it was like we were all invisible to them. They were so caught up in it.”

“They started putting groceries away,” Stan continues. “Richie had the vegetable drawer in the fridge open. One thing lead to another. All of a sudden, Richie was beating Bill with kale.”

“You were hitting Bill with leaves?” Eddie asks, turning to Richie, his dark eyebrows high.

(this whole thing really is goddamn weird, eddie thinks; richie isn’t an angry person i’ve only seen him get angry like i don’t even know not that many times and only for really good reasons)

“He’s not allowed to talk,” Stan cuts in. “But yes, Eddie, that’s what was happening. We all tried to stop it. My poor baby boy was crying because of all the chaos. Does it feel good to make a _baby_ cry, Rich?” Stan rolls his eyes. “Eventually, Bev and I got in between them and got the weapon out of Richie’s hand.”

“When you say weapon, you mean the kale, am I understanding that right?” Eddie asks.

“That’s right, Eds,” Bev confirms.

“Right. Just checking. What were they even arguing about?” 

Stan and Bev exchange a glance. Eddie turns his gaze from them to Richie, who looks sheepish. His shoulders are pushed up; he’s shoving himself back into the couch as if he’s trying to disappear.

“Nothing,” Stan answers after a moment. 

Eddie blinks. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” Beverly confirms. “Bill was talking about Audra, and then all of a sudden, Richie was smacking him with a bunch of kale.”

“Can I be permitted to speak?” Richie pipes up. Eddie glances toward him, confused.

“You can have ten seconds,” Stan says, holding up his wrist to look at his watch. 

“Okay, first of all, I’m sorry I made Andy cry, that wasn’t cool of me,” Richie says. “And second of all, it wasn’t about nothing. The whole thing started when--”

“And time,” Stan says. “Thank you for your apology.” 

Huffing a little, Richie closes his mouth. He leans back against the couch.

“So then we took the kale away from Richie,” Beverly says. “Bill was understandably upset. Mike was trying to calm him down. Meanwhile the rest of us were trying to figure out what to do about Richie’s outburst.”

“The rest of us, except for Patty,” Stan adds, “who was trying to soothe Andy, who, once again, was crying because of the chaos Richie caused.”

Richie throws his hands up into the air impatiently, but he remains silent.

“We decided the best course of action was to remove any leafy object from his grasp,” Beverly goes on. “So we taped the drawer shut. Just for a few days. Not long enough to let any of the kale start to rot. And we moved the other stuff that was in there, so it’s safe too.”

“But for now, Richie is on kale watch,” Stan concludes. “Does that sort things out for you, Eddie?”

“No one ever really explained why the whole thing started,” Eddie points out slowly, his eyebrows nudging together. His tongue pokes out from between his lips for a second as he combs through everything they’ve just said. “I think I’d kind of like to hear what Richie has to say about the whole thing. Should we call Bill and get him to come over?”

“No,” Stan and Richie say at the same time.

“Part of kale watch is that Richie and Bill aren’t allowed to communicate for two more days,” Beverly explains.

“Look, guys, he wants to hear my side of the story, so let me tell my side of the story,” Richie says impatiently. “Eddie is _my_ boyfriend anyway, I should be able to be the one who tells him stuff.”

“What’s that s’pose to mean, fuckwad, just because I’m your boyfriend doesn’t mean other people aren’t allowed to tell me stuff,” Eddie snaps.

“I never said that! I’m just saying, this thing is about me, and they’re making me look bad, and I think I should be able to at the very least share my side of the situation,” Richie insists.

“Fine,” Beverly says.

Stan sighs. “The floor is yours.”

+

“It all started when Bill caught me having sex with his dad--”

“Ew, beep beep, Richie,” Beverly says, scrunching her face up.

“Okay, okay. It was his grandpa--”

Stan shakes his head several times. “Richie.”

Richie holds his hands up in surrender. “Alright. Sorry. Had to get that out of my system. So it all started…” he trails off, cocking his head to the side a little. He pushes his glasses back up his nose. “You know, I’m not totally sure how it started.”

“How _what_ started?” Eddie asks. “Because it doesn’t sound like this was a two sided argument. It sounds like you just went after Bill for no reason.”

"Bill punched me when we were kids that one time," Richie points out.

"Yeah, when we were thirteen goddamn years old, asshole," Eddie counters, seeing no connection.

Richie pushes his hair of his forehead. It flops back down, a wavy black mess. “Okay. Okay. Whatever. Fine. Do you remember when you got your wisdom teeth out a while back, Eddie? Like do you remember how you got home from the dentist?”

Eddie tries to sort through the haziness of that day. (i think i remember waking up in richie’s bed with the lights off and a towel thumb tacked over the window and then he made me eat applesauce and we watched movies? but before that??) “Uh, no,” he answers after a moment of consideration. “I was on drugs. I don’t remember anything.”

“Well, I remember all of it.” Richie glances from Bev, who looks skeptical, to Stan, who looks annoyed, to Eddie, who looks confused. “Here’s how it went down.”

+

_3 months ago_

“Sorry, it looks like _Addams Family Values_ is checked out for another two days,” Richie says, doing his fake customer service smile, which is all flat except the corners of his mouth are pulled up. “We have the first Addams Family movie if that tickles your taste buds.”

“I just watched that one,” The nine- or ten-year-old kid who’d asked huffs. 

“How about, like, _Home Alone_ or _Jurassic Park_ or _Aladdin_ or something?” Richie suggests, looking through the list of family movies that aren’t already rented out. 

“I’ll come back in two days for _Addams Family Values_ ,” the kid grumbles, walking off before Richie can say anything else.

Shrugging, he goes back to sorting through the recently returned VHS tapes. Being a Tuesday morning, the store is pretty empty-- a couple of old people, a young mom with a toddler, and the _Addams Family Values_ kid, who was either a homeschool kid or a hookey-playing junior delinquent. 

As he’s putting _Back to the Future_ back in its plastic case, the checkout desk phone rings. He grabs it and nudges it between his ear and his shoulder.

“Blockbuster Video, how may I help you,” he says boredly. 

“Hi, I’m looking for Richie Toe… Toe something?” a friendly female voice returns. 

“That’s me,” Richie says. “Tozier. What can I do for you?”

“I’m the receptionist at Riverside Dental Surgery,” she answers. “I have a young man here named Eddie who just got his wisdom teeth out. His friend who was supposed to give him a ride home from the clinic never showed up, and it’s been almost half an hour-- he told me he had a friend who worked at the nearby Blockbuster who would come pick him up. Can you?”

(bill didn’t fucking show??????? richie’s mind demands; what the fuck??? he’d known eddie was having his wisdom teeth out today and it had been in the back of his mind since he woke up-- when your boyfriend is going under anesthesia and having like knives and chemicals and shit done to him of course you’re gonna be thinking about it-- so it strikes richie as especially ridiculous that bill would just forget about it and abandon eddie in his time of need)

He frowns hard. “Uh-- I’m in the middle of a shift so I’m gonna have to get someone to come in and cover for me before I can leave,” he says. “Is Eddie okay to sit in the waiting room for a little bit?”

“The sooner you can get here, the better,” she answers, tone suggesting that the answer to Richie’s question is really just ‘no’.

“Okay, I hear you,” he says. “I’ll get over there as soon as I possibly can. Thanks for calling. Tell him I’m on my way.”

“Alright, thank you,” she says, and hangs up.

He sighs as he puts the phone down, his mind flopping all over the place as he tries to think of a solution. He could try calling his coworkers to see if anyone is available to come. He could try calling Bev to see if she’s at home, or Ben, or Mike-- he doesn’t want to bug Stan with the situation, he figures, since Stan is probably either in class or at work or taking care of the baby and he’s kind of been going through a lot lately anyway. 

(i’m eddie’s boyfriend, though, richie thinks to himself as he fishes out the list of employee names and numbers; i should pick him up and take care of him myself)

A wash of guilt clouds his vision for a second.

(i should have gotten off work and taken care of him from the get-go, instead of leaving it to bill. i should have driven him to the clinic instead of letting him take the bus and i should have stayed there and waited and then taken him home as soon as they released him.)

He shakes his head as if to shake the guilt off. It doesn’t work. He starts calling his coworkers instead.

It’s not until the fourth call that he gets in touch with someone who’s able to come. He waits impatiently for Jake to show up, and once he does, Richie is practically flying out the door.

Luckily, the dentist’s office is really close to the Blockbuster store-- luckily, Eddie had been sent to Bangor for the procedure, so Richie doesn’t have to drive the twenty minutes to Orono. 

When he shoves into the waiting room, still wearing his ugly polyester Blockbuster polo, Eddie is slumped in a worn brown armchair. His cheeks are swollen, and bloody gauze is sticking out of his mouth-- but his sleepy deep-set brown eyes light up when they land on Richie.

“Richie!” he says, the name garbled by the gauze and the swelling. A little glob of bloody spit leaks onto his chin.

“Hey, b--buddy,” Richie says, barely keeping the word ‘babe’ off his tongue, as he makes his way to the corner Eddie is sitting in. He wipes the gross bloody spit glob off Eddie’s chin with the sleeve of his jacket. “You doing okay?”

“There’s so much going on,” Eddie mumbles around the gauze. “So much is happening. Everything is going on. It’s like it’s overwhelming but it’s not.”

“Let’s get you outta here, then,” Richie says. He glances around for the reception desk-- the receptionist grins at him, so he figures they can probably just leave.

He helps Eddie stand up and puts his arm around Eddie’s thin shoulders to guide him to the car. They move slowly since Eddie is all drugged up.

“Cat,” Eddie says once they get to the parking lot, pointing at a black blob a few feet away-- “ ‘S a cat.”

“That’s a wadded up sweatshirt, but go off,” Richie says. “Okay, into the car, be careful.”

“You’re so strong,” Eddie mumbles. “Can I have a hug?”

“When we get home you can have a thousand hugs.” Richie buckles Eddie into the passenger seat and shuts the door before heading around to the driver’s side.

“How come Bill didn’t come to take me?” Eddie asks, slumping against the window a little.

“I don’t know, babe,” Richie says. He puts the key in the ignition and pulls out of the parking spot. “I’ll kill him later on, okay?”

“No, don’t, he’s good,” Eddie mumbles around the gauze in his mouth. His eyes droop shut.

Richie just frowns.

+

_Present Day_

“So you beat Bill with kale because he forgot to pick me up from the dentist a few months ago?” Eddie asks once Richie finishes talking, one of his eyebrows shoved up. He tries to remember more of that day, but he really can’t-- it’s a drugged-up blur.

“I mean, that’s just part of it, but yeah,” Richie says defensively.

“That doesn’t make any sense, Rich.” Stan shakes his head.

“Did you ever find out why Bill didn’t show up?” Beverly asks. “Maybe he was having car troubles or something.”

“No. I have no idea. But it doesn’t matter. He could have called me,” Richie points out. “Or one of you. Or even the dentist’s office.”

“Okay, but even if you were mad at Bill for leaving Eddie at the dentist, that was a couple months ago,” Stan says. “So why did you beat him with kale three days ago, instead of when the whole thing happened?”

“You don’t understand,” Richie insists. “There’s more to it than that. I’m not finished yet.”

+

_5 months ago_

“I’m going to get another drink,” Richie says, standing up a little bit unsteadily. He touches Eddie’s shoulder for balance. “You want one, Eds?”

“Yes please,” Eddie says, a sloppy grin at his lips as he hands Richie his empty red Solo cup.

“Bill?”

Bill shakes his head, holding his cup up to show that he’s barely put a dent in his drink. “No thanks.”

“Anyone else?” He glances toward Ben and Bev and Mike, who are sitting on the other couch in his and Bev’s living room, talking and laughing and sharing a bag of pretzels. They don’t seem to hear him, so he heads off to the kitchen without waiting for an answer. 

He sloshes some of the shitty jungle juice he and Beverly had crafted that afternoon into his and Eddie’s cups. Cherry Kool-aid, half a bottle of green apple flavored vodka, a splash of blueberry flavored vodka, the few inches of Hawaiian punch that had been left in the container, some gin since they ran out of vodka, some tequila because why not, plus some lime juice for flavor, all piled into a big plastic pitcher and stirred around with a wooden spoon. Classy and barely palatable; the perfect combination for an impromptu Friday night get-together.

He reaches into the freezer and plonks a few ice cubes into each cup. He’s not going to serve his boyfriend room temperature jungle juice. He has standards. 

He’s already forgotten which cup was whose. Oh well. He just won’t tell Eddie he got them mixed up and Eddie won’t have to worry about drinking Richie’s mouth germs. It shouldn’t matter, since they make out all the time, but he knows it would matter at least a little bit to Eddie.

He walks sloppily, since this is his second cup of jungle juice, but he manages to make it back to the couch he and Eddie and Bill had been sitting on. His glasses are on crooked, somehow, so he can’t quite make out what’s going on for a second-- just hears Bill’s voice over the jumble of the music and Eddie’s asthmatic wheezing.

Quickly, he sets down the two cups and straightens his glasses.

“Hey, hey, where’s your inhaler?” He asks, putting a hand on Eddie’s arm.

“I don’t… have it,” Eddie gasps, his shoulders hunched inward.

“Oh my god,” Bill huffs. “You don’t have asthma, Eddie. You’ve known you don’t have asthma for years. You don’t need a fucking inhaler.”

“I think I have one of your old ones in my room,” Richie says, ignoring Bill as best he can in spite of the anger that has started to swirl around his tipsy mind. “Dunno if it still has stuff in it, though.”

“It might,” Eddie manages. His dark eyes are wide and frightened and vulnerable, his black eyebrows shoved together-- if not for the patchy black stubble on his cheeks and chin, he would look about five years old again. 

"It doesn't matter if it does or not, he just wants it because his mom made him pretend," Bill says impatiently. He hasn't had very much to drink, but his words slur into each other a little. His tone is hard.

(oh my god bill not the time yeah we all know he doesn’t really have asthma but not the time!!!!!)

Richie does his best to ignore Bill. To focus on calming Eddie down.

“Where is it, Richie?” Beverly’s voice comes. “I’ll grab it for him.” Richie glances at her. 

“Nightstand drawer,” he says, sitting down on the couch next to Eddie, refusing to respond to Bill's most recent hot take. “Thanks, Bev. Just relax, Eds, okay?”

“Trying,” Eddie says though his uneven half breaths. His hands flap in the air a few times as if he’s trying to shake the asthma attack off.

“What the fuck brought this on, Bill?” Richie asks.

“I was just telling him about a short story I’m working on where one of the characters gets lung cancer from using cleaning chemicals,” Bill says defensively. 

The room goes quiet. Mike must’ve turned off the music, since he’s standing by the stereo now. 

Richie sees red for a second. But calming Eddie down is more important than being mad at Bill, so he tries to push the feelings aside.

“S’okay, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie says. Just then, Beverly comes back to the couch and puts Eddie’s old inhaler in his hand. He frantically puffs it, and his shoulders relax almost immediately. He takes a few deep breaths and puffs it again.

“You can go lay down if you want,” Richie suggests, rubbing Eddie’s arm a little.

Eddie shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

“Drink some of this, then,” Richie says, handing him one of the cups at random. Eddie takes a gulp from it, and Richie puts his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, fighting the urge to kiss Eddie’s cheek since they’re in front of all their friends.

(i probably should have gotten him water instead but like whatever)

“You sure you’re okay, Eddie?” Ben asks nicely.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” Eddie says, waving the concern away with his hand-- but his voice is still small. “You can put the music back on, Mike.”

Richie glances toward Bill, who’s still sitting on the other side of Eddie, his arms crossed over his chest, frustration written into his once-warm blue eyes.

(god dammit bill, richie thinks, and he can feel his heart breaking; what the fuck happened to you?)

+

_Present day_

“Okay,” Stan says slowly, frowning. “Eddie has asthma attacks all the time, though.”

“Yeah, I mean, not so much anymore, but yeah,” Eddie says, feeling his cheeks redden a little bit. He remembers that night. Remembers feeling sick after the attack; remembers wedging himself between Richie and the wall a few hours later, listening to Richie’s loud sleep breathing, unable to sleep himself, the rot of liquor hard around his stomach, his lungs sore.

(he’d spent his entire life thinking of new ways to get cancer. x-rays, secondhand smoke, radiation, the sun, the various pills his mother had him on as a kid, asthma medicine, alcohol, his genetics since after all his father had died of it-- but he’d never considered cleaning chemicals. that was a new one.)

(and his mother had slathered every cleaning chemical known to man all over his childhood home. every surface in the bathroom, every carpet, every piece of furniture. everything eddie’s hands ever touched, to make sure she killed germs and bacteria, to make sure eddie didn't get sick. he remembers sitting in his room and her bursting in with a spray bottle or two. she'd disinfect his desk, his dresser, his nightstand, his toys, his school supplies. she'd bleach his sheets. his whole room would smell like cleaning chemicals by the end of it. yeah. he’d lost miles of sleep over that concept after bill mentioned it to him.) 

“And we all make fun of each other and give each other crap daily,” Stan adds. “You and Eddie are always calling each other 'asshole' and 'dipshit' and worse. Beverly greets us with a middle finger half the time. And, I mean, Rich, how many times have I told you I hate you in the past month alone?”

“It’s different,” Richie says. He shakes his head. Takes his glasses off, wipes them on the hem of his tee shirt, replaces them. “I know you don’t actually hate me. You just say it because I annoy you sometimes. You don’t say personal stuff or actually treat me like an asshole.”

“Well-- maybe Bill didn’t think it through,” Beverly suggests. “We were all drinking that night. And he was probably preoccupied from fighting with Audra. I’m pretty sure they were broken up at the time.”

Eddie says nothing. He’s beginning to feel small. He’s beginning to see where Richie is coming from, just a little. Instinctively, his body shifts closer toward Richie’s, until their shoulders are touching.

“Yeah,” Richie allows. “Look, there’s a bunch of other stuff I could tell you guys about to explain the kale fight, but there’s this one thing I’ve been avoiding bringing up.”

Eddie can feel Richie’s eyes on him. Hesitantly, he meets them. He immediately knows. (oh fuck, he thinks-- oh fuck, yeah, well, okay, maybe bill has fucked up a few times over the past couple years or whatever, but like, it’s not that big a deal, i mean everyone fucks up, everyone lets their friends down once or twice, let’s not forget that he saved all our asses when we were kids, let’s not forget that he was my first close friend ever, eddie’s mind races)

“What is it?” Beverly asks, concern in her voice.

“Eds?” Richie asks in an unreadable tone.

“Yep,” Eddie returns, pretending not to feel small.

“Do you know what I’m talking about?”

Swallowing, Eddie nods a few times. “Yeah. It’s fine. You can tell ‘em.”

“Okay,” Richie says. “Here goes.”

+

_1 year and 3 months ago_

Richie is bad at chores, sure, but he still does them.

Okay, he isn’t bad at chores. He’s bad at convincing himself to do them. He’s bad at finishing them once he starts them. Other than that, he’s the same at chores as every other person in the world. So pretty much, he just pretends to be bad at chores in order to avoid them.

But now, for once, he’s doing chores on purpose. Now, he’s doing the dishes, and he’s glad for them. Glad for the coffee mugs and cereal bowls and the dirty silverware and the crumb covered plates and the cookware. Glad for somewhere to put his hands.

(stan took it well, he reminds himself for the millionth time. stan took it well, because he loves me, because he’s my best friend-- love that guy. love him a whole lot.) 

(can’t believe stan is literally going to have a child, richie’s mind adds as he closes the dishwasher. like what the fuck is that? it’s crazy. a real live baby. wow i’m gonna snuggle it so hard)

He smiles a little to himself.

(and he told me first.)

(except how am i going to keep it quiet? how am i not going to blab it to beverly and eddie the first chance i get? oh fuck)

The dishwasher whirrs to life. He wipes the kitchen counters down with a wad of paper towels. Tosses the paper towels in the trash.

(i swear, he ponders, i literally swear i’m going to accidentally tell eddie the first chance i g--)

The phone rings.

He looks at it a second before picking it up. “Hello?”

“Hi, Rich,” Eddie’s voice comes quietly.

“Hey,” Richie says, oddly formally, especially considering the events of the other night. “Hi. How are you doing?”

“Uh,” Eddie says. Just the tone of it shoves Richie’s heart a few inches down. “I… I came out to Bill.”

“Oh yeah? I came out to Stan,” Richie says.

“How’d that go?”

“It went good.” (don’t tell him about the baby don’t tell him about the baby don’t t--) “How did yours go?”

He hears Eddie draw a breath. “Can I come over?”

(oh fuck. oh no)

“Of course. Yeah. Do you need me to come pick you up?”

“No, why would I need you to come pick me up?” Eddie asks.

(because you sound sad because you came out to bill and apparently)

“Dunno,” Richie says instead of finishing the thought.

“Well-- I can drive myself. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Okay,” Richie says.

Eddie doesn’t hang up. Richie can hear him breathing.

“You okay, Eds?” He asks, frowning.

“Yes,” Eddie says quickly. “Yeah. I’m just… I’m gonna come over.”

“Great,” Richie says. “Sounds good. You can stay over, if you want. It’s getting late anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Of course. Anytime.”

“I might,” Eddie admits. “I think I will.”

“Good,” Richie says, nodding at his empty kitchen. “Sounds good. See you in a second, then?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. He sighs again. “See you in a second.”

+

The doorbell rings a handful of minutes later. Richie was definitely waiting right next to it, but he forces himself to count to five before opening it, just so he won’t look too eager. He and Eddie are officially dating now, sure-- but it’s only been that way for about four days, so he doesn’t want to push his luck.

(even though we were non-officially dating but still pretty much dating for like a year before that, so really, we’ve been together for a long-ass time, his mind suggests as he reaches for the door knob; still i mean i don’t want to scare him off he doesn’t need to know i was just standing here waiting for him)

Once it’s open, and he gets a look at Eddie, he wishes he hadn’t pretended to play it cool. Instantly, fervently, silently, he vows to never play anything cool when it comes to loving Eddie ever again.

Dark bags sag underneath Eddie’s soulful brown eyes. His hair is messy. He’s wearing a sweatshirt he’d swiped from Richie a while back, which dwarfs his thin frame. He steps inside, looking like a kid.

“Hey,” Richie says as he closes the door behind Eddie, nudging his glasses into place, frowning.

“Hi,” Eddie says. “Can I have a hug?”

Immediately, Richie practically tackles him into a hug, holding him close, one hand on his back, one hand in his hair. “Of course, babe,” he murmurs.

(oh fuck i’ve never called him babe before fuck is that okay uhhhhh too late)

Eddie doesn’t address the pet name. Only leans into Richie.

They stand like this for a handful of moments, tangled up. Eddie’s eyes are squeezed shut-- Richie can tell by the tenseness of the muscles in Eddie’s face, which is pressed against his shoulder. He frowns hard. Blinks at the dimly-lit living room that spans in front of them.

He likes how Eddie smells. Always has. It’s not something he could put a finger on, or even begin to describe, but it’s so deeply familiar and comfortable. It’s a mixture of whatever soap Eddie uses and whatever laundry detergent he uses and maybe a little bit of sweat and maybe something fruity too, like raisins or blueberries or something. It’s a soft smell. Homey.

He likes a lot about Eddie. Loves a lot, even.

“So you talked to Bill?” Richie prompts eventually.

Eddie draws a shaky breath, his face still shoved up against Richie. “Yeah,” he affirms quietly. “But… will you just… will you tell me what Stan said first? I think I’d rather hear about that.”

“Let’s sit down?” Richie suggests. 

“Can we go in your room?”

“Yeah. ‘Course. Bev isn’t home, though, in case you were wondering-- she’s setting up for some fashion expo thing on campus.” (oh shit, richie remembers, i need to like tell her about this, even though she practically already knows, i mean i need to confirm it to her because she deserves that) “But yeah. Let’s go get cozy.”

It’s not exactly bed time, but the skies have been dark for quite a while, so it’s not ridiculous to go snuggle up, Richie figures as they head into his room. Shoes come off. The two of them settle onto Richie’s bed, Richie leaning against the pillows, Eddie curled up against his chest.

“So Stan?” Eddie prompts. He curls up smaller. Richie slides an arm around his shoulders.

“Yeah,” Richie says, adjusting his glasses again with his other hand, since they’d gotten dislodged when he’d flopped down. “He’s cool with it. I just told him about me being gay, but he knew I was telling him because of you. I didn’t say anything, but he just knew. He said it made sense. He’s totally cool with it.”

(and he’s going to have a baby, richie wants to say very badly-- he’s going to be a dad, how crazy is that, a real life actual little stan baby! but he forces himself to keep the secret, at least for now; his concern for eddie outweighs his excitement over the stan baby, anyway) 

(stan baby!!!! his mind remembers with a spike of excitement; stan baby stan baby stan baby)

“I’m glad,” Eddie says quietly. “That’s good. I’m… it was important to you, huh? To tell him and have him be cool with it?”

“Yeah,” Richie admits. “He was my first friend, you know?”

Eddie’s eyes close for a second. “I do. I get it. I know the feeling.”

A stab of pain cuts into Richie’s chest.

“Eds, tell me what happened with Bill,” he pleads.

“I told him at school yesterday. I found him during a break between classes and told him.”

“And?”

“And,” Eddie sighs; “and he said… he said, you _feel_ like you’re gay? You _feel_ that way? As if it’s just something I… as if it’s like I feel like eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich today, or I feel like going to the movies. And then he said… he said, well, sorry, Eddie, but I’m just not attracted to you like that.”

“He thought you were coming onto him?” Richie asks, wrinkling his nose up.

“Yeah. He did. Like, what the fuck, has he seen himself lately?” Eddie scoffs. “He hasn’t brushed his hair or worn a non-wrinkly shirt in like a year. And anyway he’s like a brother to me. I would never… anyway. Yeah he did. And then I tried to explain that I’m not interested in him and he was like, sorry, I have to get to class, and he just kind of left me there.”

“That sucks,” Richie says, stroking Eddie’s shoulder idly with his thumb. “He just walked away?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you talk to him about it again today, or anything?”

“No,” Eddie answers. “I thought about calling him last night but…”

Eddie trails off, but Richie gets it. (but you didn’t feel like going through whatever frat bro of his happened to answer the phone, and you didn’t even know what you wanted to say to bill in the first place, and you were just sad)

He presses a kiss to the top of Eddie’s head.

He can’t see Eddie’s face from the way they’re laying. So he’s surprised when he hears a choked sob come out of his mouth.

(oh fuck!!! oh i’m gonna kill him i’m really going to do it i’m going to murder bill denbrough)

“Sorry,” Eddie manages quietly.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s okay.” Richie puts his other arm around Eddie and holds him close.

“I’m just really fucking-- I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m so sad about it. It’s not like he told me I was disgusting or called me a slur or hate crime’d me or something.”

“Oh, yeah, at least he didn’t beat you to death with a hammer,” Richie says sarcastically. “He’s practically a saint.”

“You know what I mean.”

(how fucked up…………….. we have to practically beg for acceptance from the people we love and cherish any shred we get)

In that moment, Richie is reminded why he kept his sexuality secret for so long. Why he was so afraid as a kid.

(he was so afraid as a kid. _so afraid_. the only times he didn’t feel afraid were when he was with his friends. when he was with bill denbrough. when you were with bill denbrough, nothing was bigger than you.)

“Bill is one of your closest friends. It’s okay to be sad about it,” Richie says, trying to shove the unpleasant memories away.

“I just wanted to tell him so he’d know and I wouldn’t have to keep it hidden anymore. I don't _want_ to have to keep it hidden anymore. And I thought he’d understand. Also like he’s the only person I’ve ever told.” Eddie sniffles. “He was _my_ first friend. He’s been there for me since we were like five. I just thought… Ugh. It just sucks.”

“I hear you,” Richie says. “I’m sorry. It does suck.”

(god i would be fucking devestated if my conversation with stan had gone badly)

(stan baby!)

“Hey, you wanna hear something that might cheer you up a little tiny bit?” Richie asks.

“What is it?”

(haha no big deal just going to betray my best friend’s trust two days after he totally came through for me but like i have a really good reason for doing it)

“This is like, a huge secret,” Richie says. “Like you have to pretend you don’t know. You can’t tell anyone and you can’t tell Stan I told you and when Stan eventually tells you himself you have to pretend you had no idea.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, unsure.

“Stan and Patty are having a baby.”

“For real?” Eddie pulls away enough to look at Richie’s face. He isn’t crying anymore (thank god) but he does still have a tear or two streaked down his cheek. Richie wipes them away with his left thumb.

“For real,” he confirms. “On purpose. Crazy, right?”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. “Totally fuckin’ crazy. Has anyone told them they’re only twenty-one years old?”

“Last I heard, they’re aware, and they just don’t give a shit,” Richie says.

“Wow. Good for them I guess.”

“Yeah.” He puts his left arm back around Eddie where it belongs. “I’m really sorry about Bill, Eds.”

“I think he’ll come around,” Eddie sighs, nestling his face back against Richie’s chest. “I hope he’ll come around.”

(he fucking better)

“He will.”

+

_Present day_

The whole time Richie talks, Eddie keeps his eyes trained on the floor. By the time Richie is done with his retelling, Eddie notices that, at some point, he'd taken a fistful of Richie's sleeve. Was clutching it hard.

He releases the crumbled fabric. Chances a glance toward Stan and Beverly.

Stan's face is pale. Ghost white. His lips are tight. His eyes betray softness-- a degree of feeling that reminds Eddie of the summer after seventh grade.

Beverly's thin eyebrows are drawn in sympathy, her arms crossed tight over her ribs. (she had no idea. neither did stanley.)

“Eddie has been making excuses for him and giving him second and third and forty-fifth chances,” Richie concludes, squirming a little, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. “I'm just sick of it. I'm sick of him not acting like himself and being a dick and letting Eddie down. You know how many times he's blown Eddie off or been really late to hangout or something like that?”

“So listening to him complain about Audra being late struck a chord,” Stan observes quietly.

Richie nods. Eddie can feel his eyes on him as he speaks again; "If you won't be pissed off at him for all that, I'm going to be pissed off for you, Eds."

“He hasn't been himself lately,” Beverly agrees. “I guess I've kind of been avoiding him.”

(he's still the same person, eddie thinks frantically; he's still our friend)

“But I don't think he meant anything by that reaction,” Beverly adds. “He's clearly not against gay people. He still hangs out with you guys. He probably just said that stuff because he was surprised. Has he said anything else like that?”

Eddie and Richie both shake their heads.

(he hasn't apologized either though, eddie reminds himself)

“I can't believe you didn't keep that secret,” Stan says, his voice back to normal, though his eyes aren't. “You promised not to tell, Richie.”

“"He was upset, I wanted to cheer him up with good news,” Richie defends, putting his hands up as if to surrender. “I was so excited. I can't keep secrets, dude. You should know that by now. Anyway, you told him yourself like two weeks later.”

“And he _pretended_ to be surprised,” Stan says, shaking his head, smiling the tiniest bit.

The four friends laugh a little. 

But the hurt isn't gone, and the vegetable drawer is still firmly duct taped shut.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!! please leave a comment and make sure to read the next two fics so this makes sense :)


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